


The Duchess and the Jedi

by War_Disnei



Series: Obitine [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anidala, Clone Wars, Death Watch (Star Wars), F/M, First Time, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Jedi, Jedi Code, Jedi/Politician, Mandalore, Mandalorian, Mandalorians - Freeform, Obitine, Politics, Sisters, War, beskar'gam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-21 11:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/War_Disnei/pseuds/War_Disnei
Summary: Being Duchess, Mandalorian, neutral AND at war is a hard job, and Satine Kryze knows that. With a life on the forefront of Mandalorian politics and barely any time left to fix her dysfunctional private life, Satine can only look forward to her encounters with General Kenobi, a dear, loyal friend.As the war brings on bitterness and dejection, will there be any room left for their hearts to soften?





	The Duchess and the Jedi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just your average day at Sundari Royal Palace!
> 
> Ecology and tradition clash as talks of Concordian reforestation are brought up. But the Duchess is perfectly capable of handling conflicting opinions, isn't she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What to say, I fell for these two <3

“Duchess Satine has the floor” moderator Vane Blyk spoke in the midst of an aggressive Mandalorian Moons Council session.

At last, the Duchess of Mandalore, who had yet to utter a single word since the beginning of the meeting, stood up, her cheeks rosy as those of someone who is on the verge of exploding after having silently put up with _too much_. She waited until she had the undivided attention of all eyes and ears present.

Then she dropped the bomb.

“Governors” she started, her tone stentorian.

“This Council is _ridiculous_ ”

The chamber resonated with outraged whispers, but nothing would stop the Duchess now:

“I applaud those who have bothered to turn up, but the fact that there are only about 30 moon representatives here for this debate, _amply_ demonstrates that this Council is not serious!”

The backlash was immediate. And ferocious. But Satine had handled such situations way too many times before to feel regret about her poor choice of undiplomatic words. At times, nothing could awake Mandos from their slumber more than plain old straightforwardness.

“Duchess…! My moon representatives have always been present at every meeting unlike those _di’kute_ from the West…” a truculent governor named Madden yelled.

“Duchess! Please urge Governor Madden to use a different language while addressing _our_ people and _our_ interests!”

“We are not ridiculous! That’s enough!”

“I will never again attend a meeting of this kind!”

Satine’s eyes became two thin slits as she took in the rain of invectives her subordinates showered each other and herself with. She held it together until she deemed it _enough_.

“SILENCE!”

The bilious governors all turned to look at her like misbehaved pupils would look at a teacher. Almec, from his fur-lined armchair, didn’t lift a finger to help her reestablish order. He seemed amused by it all, even. Satine couldn’t really say she was surprised, yet she resisted an urge to incinerate her Prime Minister with her gaze, set on not letting any kind of temperamental weakness transpire. Someone in her position couldn’t afford to slip in that way.

“ _Gedet’ye, gedet’ye,_ let’s address one issue at a time” urged moderator Vane Blyk, before announcing that it would be Governor Tor’s turn to speak in the name of Concordia.

“Duchess, Council, our moon’s agriculture is collapsing due to climatic challenges we face constantly. If we could receive additional funding…”

 _Awesome._ Concordians, asking for _more_ money. To Satine, that struck a nerve.

“I beg your pardon?! I personally oversaw that enough funds would be allotted to the Concordian reforestation program. The money has arrived, yet your efforts to restore the moon’s original ecosystems haven’t yielded any visible results. _How so_?”

The tone and questions of her inquiry were meant to sound deliberately provoking. Considering what had happened with Death Watch while Vizsla was in charge of Concordia, it was the minimum they could expect as a reaction. The New Mandalorian government wouldn’t fund terrorists so easily a second time.

"Milady...growing trees is _hard!_ The terrain is so weatherworn, the soil so impoverished and subjected to strong winds that we could only reach about 0.5% of our reforestation target during the last five years!"

Satine had known, on the day of her coronation, that ruling over Mandalore’s fledgling democracy would have been challenging. However, she could have never expected that her job would resemble more that of an obstetrician for pachyderms than that of an actual stateswoman. So much for getting something out of the governors.

“So, at this point, the only solution to further finance the reforestation program is to cut on Concordia's minerary sector subsidies..."

The backlash was immediate.

“But Duchess! You can’t possibly be serious!”

“The mines are vital to our economy!”

“What will be of us if there’s nothing to extract, smelt, mold anymore…”

“Our state-of-the-art ore industry is what keeps us afloat right in this unfortunate moment!”

“ _Balance_ is what we must pursue, Governors! _In medias res stat virtus_ ” Satine exclaimed, thinking she sounded a lot like her Jedi protector (and unofficial mentor) Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Pity she didn’t possess the same mind-tricking abilities.

Satine was well-aware that the word “balance” didn’t sound as exciting to Mando ears as stronger idiomatic expressions exalting fight and conquest would. Not for lack of balance in Mandalorian culture per se, but for the absence of culturally relevant references to “balance” in their everyday vernacular. Communicating effectively could be the hardest of tasks, at times.

“As much as all your argumentations make sense, you must realize that Concordia’s iron accounts for less than 0.001% of all of the Mandalorian Sector’s estimated _beskar_ deposits, although its ecosystems have proven invaluable to the moon’s agricultural wellness, and as a direct consequence, to Sundari’s food security. As per Governor Tor's latest report, a particularly strong windstorm has compromised a month's worth produce from farms and fisheries, not to mention the toll reparation works will take on local households. Ponds were filled to the brim with dry, ashy soil, and it is only matter of time before a storm strong enough forms to bury the farms, or fill our people's cradles. Would that really sit well with all of you?!"

 

\--

 

Satine was “released” from the Council meeting well after the sun had set.

Her back hurt from sitting on a hard throne all day and she wished nothing more than to get rid of her heavy headdress, but she tolerated everything and beyond for the sake of _her people_.

Clan Kryze owned glorious forts in Kalevala and all over the Sector, however the Duchess’ apartment inside the Palace was stylish but quite basic, mirroring the state of Mandalore’s promising yet developing economy, as a sign of complete willingness to be at the same level as the people she served.

Reaching her private quarters, Satine dismissed her guards, yearning some privacy. A lifestyle that required her to be escorted almost everywhere was not an easy one, especially for someone who had spent the first two decades of life as _freely_ as she had. But that was a long time ago. Before lifechanging events had shaped her into a grown-up woman. _Mostly_.

As she sighed her way to her desk, she noticed a comm-link abandoned there, and _remembered_.

That morning, before being fully claimed by Mandalorian politics, she’d found the heart to send a message to a friend. And not just _any_ friend: Jedi Master and General of the Republic Obi-Wan Kenobi. Truth was, she’d felt particularly _lonely_ the night before, so before she could realize it, an invitation for a live Holo-chat with her old flame had been sent. Realistically speaking, Satine wasn’t expecting him to reply, not even in light of their newly proclaimed _friendship_. He had his own life and duties, she had hers, and the two had proven to be so unreconcilably divergent no amount of mutual appreciation would bring them closer. There’d been a time when she used to have more faith in men and human relations in general, but that time had long since gone.

Too exhausted and distraught to feel sad about herself, she walked to the refresher to get ready for the night.

Unexpectedly, the comm-link beeped.

Her heart surging, Satine rushed to answer, ecstatic like a teenager. Maybe _he_ still cared, after all.

“Hello?”

Only thing, there wasn’t Kenobi, at the other end of the comm-link.

Satine attempted to understand what was going on, not an easy feat with all that ruckus. She heard shouts in her native Kalevalan language and the panicked sobs of what sounded like a crying boy.

“Ne shab’rud’ni, dar’manda!”

Oh well. A threat. Nothing new there.

By then, she was certain that none other than _Clan Kryze_ had made the call. It didn’t surprise her: as with every Mando clan, hers could be a handful at times. _Most of the time_.

With her being the Duchess and all, it wasn’t rare for her to be called to solve conflicts or have the last word in a highly divisive matter. Such were occurrences that always left Satine with a sour mouth, regardless of the outcome.

“AUNTIE HELP ME!!!”

Satine’s stomach jolted, as she dropped the comm-link out of shock.

Korkie.

Less than a minute later, Satine was out the door.

Half an hour later she was on a spaceship, set off to Kalevala.


End file.
